A Day at the Golf Course
by KRDAMD5
Summary: It does't take our man too long to solve a murder.


A Day at the Golf Course

No ownership do I have and no profit will I gain. Just sharing some love of Columbo.

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"Who did it?" Stanton Orlando demanded to know as he stormed into his house, glaring at anyone who dared to return his gaze. "Who shot my wife?"

"Excuse me, Sir." The uniformed officer physically blocked his way. "Sir, may I help you?"

"YES!" Stanton practically roared. "You can get the hell out of my way and point me in the direction of whoever it is that's in charge of this circus."

"Oh," the young officer answered with a slight smile. "That would be Detective Columbo." He extended a long arm towards a man in a raincoat wondering around Stanton's living room. "That's him over there."

Orlando gave the officer no further attention and walked into this living room, hesitating at the doorway, as he studied the short, rumpled little character in his home. Stanton Orlando wasn't necessarily a mental giant, but as he stood and watched the short, wiry haired detective in the frumpy raincoat wander around the scene of the crime, Orlando felt like a positive genius. This befuddled little man, with the puzzled expression and cheap cigar couldn't possibly be smart enough to figure out that Orlando had killed his wife.

"Uh, excuse me, Sir?" Columbo ambled up to the tall, thin balding man in the fashionable sweater, slacks and loafers of most wealthy men of the time. "You are… uh, Mr. Orlando?" Columbo knew that, but he wanted everything on the record.

"Yes." Orlando looked down his impossibly long nose at the shorter man. "And you are _Mr._ Columbo, are you not?"

"Uh, Detective Columbo. I'm in charge of this case, Sir." Columbo was usually a pretty good judge of character and his senses right then were telling him this man was more than just a character. "Mr. Stanton, I'm awful sorry about your loss and I'll do my best not to take up too much of your time. But could you answer a few questions for me?"

"If it means finding my wife's murderer, of course." Stanton answered.

"Uh, huh." Columbo offered him a sly look. Taking his cigar from his mouth, he scratched his left eyebrow as he watched the man for a moment. "Mr. Orlando, when did you learn of your wife's death?"

"Approximately an hour ago." Stanton answered haughtily. "I received a call at the golf course telling me to come home because my wife was dead."

"I see." Columbo nodded. "And who called you, Sir? I mean was it your gardener, a Mr…. Uh…"

"Mitchell." Orlando supplied. "Yes, he was the one who called me."

"Um hm." Columbo looked at the notes he had scribbled down on a notepad before looking back up at Stanton Orlando. "And do you recall exactly what it was he said to you?"

Orlando shrugged. "Well, he said my wife had died and that the police were here and that I needed to come home right away."

"And that's all he said?" Columbo asked politely. "I mean he didn't give you any details or anything?"

"No." __Stanton didn't like these questions. "Why? What does that matter?"

"Oh, I was just wondering." Columbo assured him. "And you were at your golf course?" Columbo looked a little speculative as he studied the man's casual attire. "I mean, I'm no golfer, Sir, but those clothes don't really look like the kind of clothes you would golf in."

"I was actually in the club at the course, Detective." Stanton rolled his eyes at him. " I was meeting with friends there. Of course, I did go out and hit a few balls but it didn't really require a change of clothes."

"Oh, I see." Columbo smiled genially at him. "And when did you get there, Mr. Orlando? I mean, if you don't mind my asking. You know, I have to have that for my notes and all."

"Well, let's see." Stanton closed his eyes in thought. "I left here at about 9 and it's about a half hour away, so I must've gotten there about 9:30 and I was there until Mitchell called me." Stanton hid a smile at his cleverness. He hadn't lied about the time. He had left his house at 9 and had gotten to the course about 9:30. Of course, no one knew the rest of that story.

Stanton had to struggle to keep from giggling as he recalled telling his pals at the club that he was going to 'hit some balls' and then slipping out through a back door. He'd been to that club many times and knew exactly where to go to get a hold of a set of keys to one of the club owned station wagons. After 'borrowing' one of them, Stanton had quickly driven to within a few blocks of his home, stowed the car in an alley and then hurriedly made his way to his house, going in unseen through the back way. Once inside, it was an easy matter to slip on gloves, shoot his wife, while she sat on the couch watching TV and then slipping back out, reclaiming the car and driving back to the club, sight unseen. This dupe, as he thought of the detective, would never figure it out.

"And the golf course you go to is called the Silver Pines?" Columbo asked, as he consulted the little book in his hand.

"Yes." Stanton answered suddenly feeling a little less like giggling. Something about the way the Detective had looked at him, didn't feel quite right.

"Uh huh." Columbo nodded at the answer and flicked a page back on his little book and then looked back up at Stanton Orlando with a smile. "Well, Mr. Orlando, I sure do appreciate you answering my questions. That helps me immensely."

"Well…. Uh, well, good." Stanton relaxed, certain he'd literally just gotten away with murder. "Now, can I go upstairs and change my clothes and relax? This has not been a good day for me, obviously."

"Uh, sure." Columbo nodded and turned away for just a moment before looking back at the new widower. "Uh, just one more thing, Sir, before you go?"

"What?" Stanton made no effort to hide his sudden irritation at this man.

"Well, Sir, it's just that, when you do go up, I'm gonna have to send one of my patrolmen with you to collect those clothes."

"What?" Stanton Orlando was beyond irritated now. He'd been around this cop for no more than a few minutes but it hadn't taken long for the shorter man to anger him. "Why? Why do you want my clothes?"

"Well, because, Sir." Columbo's smile saddened a little. "You, sir, are under arrest for the murder of your wife. We'll need those clothes to examine for traces of blood and so forth. I recon you weren't too far away from your wife when you shot her so there must be some evidence on them. At least on your pants. I suspect you changed your shirt."

"I'M WHAT!" Stanton's veins stood out on his very high forehead and his face grew intensely red. "How in the world could you possibly come to such a conclusion? I told you, I was at the golf course and I have witnesses!"

"Uh, yes, Sir." Columbo nodded nicely. "I'm sure you do. But you see, Sir, I can promise you when I talk to those people, and I will, that they will say there was a time when they didn't see you. You said yourself that you were away from them for a little while."

"Well… yes." Stanton was beginning to panic. "But that doesn't mean someone didn't see me?"

"That's true, Sir." Columbo smiled. "But well… Mr. Orlando, I'm just going to have to be honest with you, sir. You see, your gardener found your wife long before he called you. As a matter of fact he called us before he called you. And we've ah… we've been here for a couple of hours now. And in that time, we've found out quite a bit. Now some of it will have to be confirmed, but I assure you we will, Sir. We will."

"Like what?" Stanton demanded to know a little of his cockiness returning. He was positive there was no way they could tie him to this. "Exactly what is it you think you have as evidence?"

"Well, Sir," Columbo scratched his brow for a moment and squinted one eye at the man in front of him. "For one thing, see this couch here?" He pointed at the massive piece of furniture in the middle of the room.

"Yes." Stanton answered dryly. He hated that couch and wasn't sorry in the least that it would be removed from his home soon.

"Well, Sir." Columbo smiled. "You see, that there piece of furniture is a pretty big piece. Actually, it's really kinda tall for a couch. That means whoever stood behind it and killed your wife had to be a pretty tall fella himself." He walked over to the couch and stood behind it as an example. "See? I'm just barely tall enough to put my arm above the back here. But you, well… You are just tall enough to reach over it without any problems. That's why I think you probably changed your shirt. You probably got a lot of blood on it."

"I did not!" Stanton angrily denied. "Besides, I'm not the only tall man in California, you know."

"Well, that is true." Columbo agreed with no rebuttal.

"Well, if that's your shocking proof…" Stanton started to turn away but Columbo hadn't finished.

"Oh, there's more, Sir. We got a report from the local patrol officers in this area that a car, belonging to the Silver Pines golf course, was parked not too far from here. So, we checked with them. And you know what they said? A Mr. Hodges, from there, said one of their cars was missing but it had been returned. He said he thought it was you that he'd seen near the car right after that."

"That's no proof of anything." Stanton sneered. "I was there as were many other men. Any one of us could've been near that car without even knowing it."

"True." Columbo nodded. "That is true. Of course, like I said, I've got several things to confirm, and that is just one of them."

"You still have no proof of your preposterous allegation against me." Stanton stated with an arched brow. "I was at the golf course when my wife was murdered."

"Well, Sir," Columbo sighed. "I guess maybe you're right." Appearing to turn away, he took two steps towards the door, before turning and looking back at Stanton Orlando who was already heading for the stairs.

"Uh, but, one more thing, Sir." Columbo stopped him in his tracks. "Just one more thing. I mean, if you don't mind."

"What?" Stanton snapped as he looked back at the thoroughly irritating detective.

"Well, it's just… Well, Sir, if you weren't here when she was murdered, than how did you know your wife was shot?"

Stanton's mouth dropped open for a second before he consciously forced himself to close it, remembering, to his horror, what he'd said when he had first come in. "Wha… I… well, the… the gardener told me." He finally mustered.

"Uh, no, Sir. No, he didn't. You see, you already said that the only thing he told you was that your wife was dead and that you had to come home. Also, there was a uniformed officer standing next to him when he called you. He took down word for word what your gardener said. He never said she was shot."

Stanton dropped his head and let out a breath. "You've known since I walked in here, haven't you?" He looked up at the man he'd been positive would never figure it out.

Columbo nodded. "Yes, Sir." He nodded as an officer stepped up and placed cuffs on the murdering husband. "Yes, Sir, I did."

END


End file.
